Borrowing Trouble

by Mae Wood

  Well, Trip’s plan is screwed. And what’s the dining room? After this afternoon, I’m just going to have to go along with anything she wants to get back in her good graces. “That would be lovely.”

  “Mom, I was planning on taking Marisa out, just the two of us.”

  “I’m certain you’ll see her afterwards,” replied Bitsy, ending the discussion. Our threesome lapsed into a fraught silence as I stared at my feet and feverishly prayed to shrink like Alice. I took a rather large sip of the merlot and then proceeded to drain the glass. Nope. Still here. Still the same size.

  “Glad to have you home, son,” boomed Jimmy, heartily patting Trip on the back before leaning in for a quick hug. “And you haven’t scared her off yet, I see. Marisa, I’m glad you could join us.” He gave me a quick hug and dropped a peck on my cheek. I was almost used to Jimmy’s warm affection, but still couldn’t completely shake the feeling of him as my ultimate boss.

  “Thank you for inviting me, Bitsy, Jimmy. Also, Bitsy, thank you so much for arranging the tour at the zoo.” Jimmy’s eyes landed on mine and quirked. Yup, guess he didn’t know about that. “My best friend’s children had an amazing time and I’m not ashamed to say that I really enjoyed the behind-the-scenes experience, too. Thank you.”

  “Of course. Anytime. I was surprised Trip was in town last weekend. I thought he was working.”

  “Um, Mom, I was just home briefly between meetings. Not long enough to actually do anything.”

  “Long enough to go to the zoo with Marisa.”

  “Marisa, I noticed your glass is empty like mine. Care to escort an old man in search of refreshment?”

  God, bless Jimmy. “Absolutely. That is never a hardship.”

  He offered his arm and I took it. “We’ll be right back. I need to bend her ear about some work.”

  When we reached the bar, he heard my sigh. “Don’t let her scare you off, now. She likes you. He’s just been MIA. She misses him. Give them two minutes for him to apologize and pledge his fealty. She’ll apologize for snapping and they’ll be right as rain by the time we get back. Story of my life.” He shook his head, caught the waiter’s attention, and pointed at the empty glasses.

  “So, now that I’ve got you here, we’re going to chat until they work out their little spat and then rejoin them just in time to take our seats.” We stood in companionable silence as the waiter refilled our glasses. He passed me mine and lifted his to me. “Cheers, Marisa. Glad to have a compatriot through these tribulations.”

  “Um, Jimmy, about the zoo, I had my best friend’s two kids for the day last Saturday. I didn’t ask Trip to come home. I didn’t know he was coming back until he showed up at my friend’s house. I didn’t ask him to spend the day with us and I didn’t ask him to call Bitsy and set up the special zoo tour.”

  “I didn’t think you had. Even if you had, I think that’s wonderful. Glad we could do it for you and for them.”

  “I don’t want to be seen as taking advantage of you.”

  Jimmy smiled into the glass. “Marisa, I’ve never known you to be so self-effacing. It’s not like you and it doesn’t become you. Enjoy the zoo and whatever else he comes up with. If you know Trip at all, then you know either he’s doing something or he’s not doing it. Not much can be said to change his mind once it’s set. And that is one hundred percent his mother. I am, as you know, a complete pushover.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jimmy, if you’re the pushover in this family then I am in trouble.”

  “Heaven help us, Marisa. But, that’s a good segue to what I want to talk to you about. We hired Johnson and Bales out of New York to help us with this conspiracy you uncovered and we’re in negotiations to resolve it quietly.”

  They’re in settlement negotiations? Trip hasn’t mentioned a word about this.

  Before I could speak, Jimmy continued, “I know you’re close to this and I don’t want you to be surprised if we do come to a resolution shortly. The lawsuits you’ve worked on will be dismissed and the Duquettes will be reimbursing us for your bill and we’ll get some sort of cash settlement and go on with our lives.”

  I thawed and took what only could be described as a swig from my wine glass. Blech. This is plonk. Can I just start doing tequila shots because this evening cannot get any weirder?

  “I suppose this is good news for you.”

  “Well, it’s far from a done deal. I don’t want to put you two through that.”

  “Put me through what?”

  Now it was Jimmy’s turn to shift a little uncomfortably. “The depositions, the publicity, the whole of it. You know the PR disaster this would become. Plus, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like running our business.”

  “Don’t do this for me, Jimmy. I’m a big girl. I can handle anything.”

  “I don’t doubt that. However, I’m serious about not wanting this. Despite this,” he said, gesturing to the reception, “we’re a private family. I want Trip’s name in the papers as much as Amelia’s father wants her name in there. I’m still slightly in disbelief that she had the wherewithal to pull together women to sue us in trumped up sexual harassment lawsuits. I didn’t think she had any interests other than parties and horseback riding. But, unless I don’t have any other option, we’re wrapping this insanity up and moving on with our lives.”

  “Okay,” I spoke slowly. He clinked his glass at mine as an usher approached to announce it was time to take our seats.

  ***

  “Swan Lake” is beautiful. I’d seen it before, but Trip was wrong. This wasn’t “Swan Lake.” This was some contemporary ballet with discordant music and the costuming all in various shades of gray with a sole dancer in black under pink lighting that left me equal parts bored and confused. Can ballet be avant-garde? I longed to play with my iPhone, but instead I kept my eyes glued to the stage and my body ready to fend off any covert touches from Trip. He cannot grope me in front of his mother. That will be the nail in my coffin. Trip made it through the performance with only a few subtle swats at his roving hand.

  I joined the rest of the audience in polite applause and stood. Trip remained seated for an extra beat, surreptitiously running a hand up my leg. I smacked it when it reached my upper thigh as Bitsy looked at me quizzically. I tried to pretend I was simply smoothing down the skirt of my dress. Cut it out, Trip, your mom is watching. We worked our way through the murmuring crowd and bid Bitsy and Jimmy goodbye when George appeared with their car.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked, as Trip and I stood in the interminable valet line.

  “Sorry, I just like touching you. I didn’t realize it was going to upset you.”

  “No, I mean, I know exactly what that was about and don’t worry. You can touch all you want as soon as we get home. I meant the ballet, but I like where your head is.”

  “Oh, you’re really going to like where my head is going to be,” he softly growled, pulling me into his side. I was embarrassed and flattered and extremely turned on.

  “How long do we have to stay for dinner?” I nearly whined. Being so close to him after a week without touching was harder than I’d imagined.

  “We can skip dessert, if you’ll tolerate that.”

  “Of course I will.” I dropped my voice to a whisper and continued. “After the past four hours, I’m ready to do a couple of shots and fuck my boyfriend until I blackout.”

  “Tell me how you really feel,” Trip said with a laugh at my brutal honesty, squeezing me tightly. “Can I hold you to that? Even if there is bourbon pecan pie at the Club?”

  “We’re going to the country club?” My mind spun back to my visit to the Memphis Country Club a few months back. It was John’s unofficial super-secret retirement party that involved the boys drinking way too much bourbon and Trip and I making eyes at each other all night.

  “As you say, ‘yup.’ ”

  “This is not how I saw this night playing out,” I groaned into his shoulder, burying my face into his navy suit.

 
; “And just think, we get to do this again tomorrow with your parents! We are so lucky.”

  “Yea! But really, can you please not touch me in front of your parents? I really don’t want your mom to think I’m—” I fumbled for the word. A slut? A whore? A Jezebel?

  “My girlfriend who I’m crazy about? Because I think she already knows that.” He kissed the top of my head. “Okay, so I’m not going to paw you through dinner, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You do have a habit of it.”

  “I know. Hands to myself. I can do it.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve seen before just how exactly you can do hands to yourself at dinner.” I smirked, recalling our handsy dinner at Folk’s Folly.

  “Touché. I’ll be a good boy over dinner so I can be a very, very bad boy afterwards.”

  During dinner, I picked at my Chicken Cordon Bleu, drank a couple glasses of chardonnay and prayed for it to end quickly. The conversation was light and focused on Trip’s meetings in London and the negotiations involving the potential sale of the dollhouse division. I was thankful that I was allowed to nod and smile while avoiding making eye contact with Bitsy.

  “Sounds like it was a productive trip,” I noted. Trip and Jimmy nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Did you do anything other than work?” asked Bitsy.

  Trip opened his mouth to answer and went still. I followed his line of sight to a thin blonde woman who had just stood up from a table across the room.

  Is that Amelia Duquette? The woman who Trip bought an engagement ring for. The woman who convinced Branco employees to sue over made up sexual harassment claims. Well, this day just keeps getting more awesome. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her face in our direction and sneered. She sneered.

  “Ah, hell.” The words tumbled from his mouth.

  “Trip! Language. Not in the dining room,” hissed Bitsy.

  “Amelia Duquette is here. Looks like the whole Duquette family is here.”

  Bitsy’s eyes lit up. “Laura Catherine!” she called with a wave. “I hope she’s doing well. I haven’t heard a peep from her in the past month and she even missed the garden club meeting at the house last week.”

  A statuesque woman with shoulder-length colored blonde hair pulled back from her face neatly with tortoiseshell combs nodded at Bitsy and then silently begged off, following her family out of the room.

  She doesn’t know. How does Bitsy not know about the potential lawsuit against Duquette Enterprises and criminal charges against Amelia?

  “Oh well, I guess I’ll catch up with her at the benefit next week.”

  “The Duquettes are coming?” I squeaked with amazement, not comprehending how Trip and Jimmy could keep Bitsy so in the dark.

  “I would assume so. They’ve always had a table at the event. And, on that subject, Marisa, would you like to come over to the house before hand? I’ve got my hairdresser stopping by and he can fix you up as well.”

  “Sure,” I gulped, reaching for Trip’s hand under the table and finding it balled into a tight fist. I ran my fingers across it until he softened and our fingers intertwined. Really, what else can I deal with tonight?

  “Do you want me to pick up your gown when I pick mine up? I’m sure you’re very busy with work and if it would help you, I can do that for you. It would probably be best if you stopped by tomorrow for a final check on alterations.”

  “I can do that. I don’t have much on my calendar tomorrow. I can stop by and if everything is good, I’ll just take it home with me then.”

  “But if you need a few more alterations, I really am happy to pick it up for you.”

  Maybe I should just let her? Christ, next thing she’ll be setting up mani-pedis. Please, God, please don’t make me sit beside Trip’s mom for two hours of girl talk. Not after this afternoon. I can’t handle it.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “What are you kids’ plans for this weekend?” asked Jimmy.

  “Having dinner with Marisa’s parents tomorrow,” replied Trip, squeezing my hand while simultaneously draining a glass of wine. Bitsy’s eyes sparkled and her smile widened.

  Oh, no. Bad idea. I know that look. That’s the I’m-finally-going-to-get-grandkids look. Mom’s had it a few times.

  “That is so nice,” she practically squealed. Jimmy shook his head at me, catching my eyes. I gently shrugged. I didn’t bring it up. Blame your son.

  “Where are y’all going?”

  “We haven’t talked about it, but I was thinking about inviting them over to the house. Since they welcomed me into their home, I thought it might be fitting.”

  “You’ve met Marisa’s parents?” Jimmy asked in amazement. Now it was his turn to have visible thoughts of grandchildren dance across his face. “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, what about two months ago? A while before we went down to the beach, they had me over for Sunday dinner.” I nodded in agreement, hoping Jimmy would do the math and realize that Trip liked me enough to meet my parents well before he sought his dad’s permission to, um, date me.

  “That would be very appropriate, Trip,” assured a greatly pleased Bitsy.

  “I thought about just meeting them at Café Piazza in Collierville. I don’t know what their plans are for tomorrow and I’m not sure they want to come all the way downtown,” I hedged.

  “Well, let’s call after dinner and see if that works for them.” Trip pushed back from the table. “I hate to end this, Mom and Dad, but I’m exhausted. I slept some on the plane, but I’m still on London time, which means it’s like four am for me.”

  We walked out of the country club, bid our goodbyes to Trip’s parents, and I climbed into his car. Dropping into the passenger seat, I exhaled. “Whew. That was exhausting. Craziest day ever. You’ve got to be bushed. Why don’t you drop me off at my place and we’ll chat tomorrow?”

  “Why would you say that?” He paused holding the door open.

  “You were just talking about how you’re on London time and you want to crash.”

  “No. I just believe I got us out of dessert. Now we’re going home.” He closed the door and walked around. My eyes followed his lithe and tired frame lope around the car to the driver’s side. He fell into the seat, cranked the car, placed his right hand on my left knee and took us home. Yes, home.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I woke up Saturday morning and ran a slow five miles. When I returned, Trip’s house was still silent. I fed myself the yogurt and granola that Bitsy had dropped off.

  Looks like someone has figured out that I like strawberry. Whether she’s going through the trash or just noting which containers are missing, I’m damn impressed. I turned on the coffeemaker, happy that unlike Josh, Trip had a normal coffeemaker. Josh. I’m a crappy friend.

  I hadn’t called Erica all week. At first I wanted to give her space to deal with Josh’s sudden arrival home after so long away. Then I got caught up in my own head, as so often happens. I grabbed my phone out of my black satin clutch, which was on the breakfast table where I’d tossed it once Trip began to ravish me as soon as we’d gotten into the house last night.

  I fixed a large mug of hot, milky coffee, still amazed that someone could be out of town for a week and come home to fresh dairy products. As much as Bitsy’s arrival yesterday afternoon had been extremely unfortunate, it did come with some upsides. Namely in the form of breakfast.

  I shouldn’t be a bitch about her being here or be too ashamed that I’m here. It’s her son. He’s my boyfriend. We’re adults. As long as she doesn’t hate me, I’m sure we’ll just go the next however long pretending that it never happened.

  I hopped up on the island, took a sip of coffee, and dialed Erica.

  “Hey,” I said, when she answered. “Still on for tomorrow night?”

  “We’re going to reschedule. Josh has to go back this afternoon.”

  “Really? I thought he was staying?”

  “Something about a big meeting on
Monday that he has to prepare for. Then he started going all quant on me. Metrics, this, code, that. Even though I don’t know math or computers, it was clearly bullshit. It was easier just to let him go than to listen to him try to fabricate a story on the spot. Whatever is going on with him, he still hasn’t told me what’s really up.”

  “I’m sorry. We can move back dinner or we can still come or we can meet somewhere.”

  Erica sighed into the phone. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, well in that case, it’s me, you, and the kids for an easy dinner out. How about Pete and Sam’s?”

  Erica laughed. “Pete and Sam’s? Is that place still open?”

  “Let me check. It just sounds like you need some serious comfort carbs and Pete and Sam’s lasagna seems to fit the bill,” I said, pulling up Yelp on Trip’s iPad. “Yes, it’s still around and based on the reviews, it sounds like it hasn’t changed since we were kids. Huge portions of homey Italian in a building without windows.”

  “Oh! I’d forgotten about that. I mainly remember the tired wallpaper. A tiny floral.”

  “Leave it to the artist to remember the wallpaper.”

  “Okay, it’s done. Five-thirty tomorrow at Pete and Sam’s. Wear stretchy pants.”

  “Marisa, I’m a suburban mom. It’s an amazing day when I’m not wearing yoga pants.”

  ***

  I stood in the shower with Trip behind me, lathering shampoo through my hair. “What do you want to do today?”

  “This,” I answered, luxuriating in the feeling of his fingers on my scalp in the steamy shower. Can we just stay like this forever?

  “You read my mind.”

  “What?” I said, snapping out of my reverie. Did I just say that aloud?

  “Let’s stay like this forever.” He enfolded me in his arms and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Is that so crazy?”

  Is he saying what I think he’s saying? No way. Clearly no. We’ve just started dating. We’ve known each other a few months. But that’s not what I want. I want him. Forever.